The Beginning and The End
by eezzeeism
Summary: Why doesn't someone just take a time turner, go back in time, and kill Voldemort before he causes any harm? Evan is asking the same question and decides to do just that. Turns out he wasn't the only wizard or witch who thought of it.
1. Prologue: The Beginning and The End

The Beginning And The End

A small, grey-haired woman stood with her back to a large window hung with ornate drapes. The last drops of sun fell through the window and splashed on a large ornate desk and the many paintings on the wall, all of older men and women. Next to the window stood a man, about forty years of age, with an experience-hardened face. Despite his obvious ability to think on his feet, he seemed a little at lost for words and rather apprehensive.

The witch sighed, "You know what you have to do. We've been planning this for three years. There's nothing else we can do." Though the woman had clearly seen many, many years, her voice was strong and commanding. The man nodded and stood-if possible-at even greater attention. He was an Auror, one of the first. He had been trained and taught for the past three years with the purpose of defeating a new threat. The woman was the Minister of Magic.

The Ministry of Magic is a ministry of witches and wizards who take care of the magical side of running England, along with the Prime Minister. The muggle Prime Minister, that is. A muggle is a non-magical human.

They were standing in her office. The new threat was a wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort, and he was gathering followers and causing trouble, and not just any trouble. Mysterious things were happening to muggles, half-bloods (wizards or witches who had one parent that was magical and one that wasn't), and Squibs (people who should have had magical ability because they came from two magical parents, but unfortunately did not). Not only were these people tortured, ridiculed, and experimented on, but they were also being killed. The British government didn't know how to handle these magical attacks, and the Ministry needed to do something.

The small witch turned, revealing a small, golden object on a silky gold chain held with great reverence. She ceremoniously held it out towards the man, "Fifty turns." She took a deep breath. "Fifty turns should do."

"So early?" asked the man as he took the chain and dropped it over his head. "He was only a child then!"

"We must choke the weed before it grows," the Minister replied with a pained expression on her face. "Just get in there, do what you need to do, and get out."

"Yes, Minister," the Auror replied.

The Minister's calm broke for a moment. "God be with you Durant."

"And with you Millicent," he whispered, "I'll write a note. You'll know where it is." He swallowed, and then lifted up the small hourglass that hung on the end of the chain. With an air of great solemnity, he turned it back once, the twice. And then realizing how long it would take to do that fifty times, he gently began to spin it, always carefully counting. After a second there was a soft whoosh and he was gone.

The Minister sighed and collapsed into the chair behind her desk. "It's our only chance," she whispered to the paintings on the wall, as if to convince both them and herself, "Our only chance."

Two minutes later there was a loud and insistent pounding at the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she grumbled, rising heavily from her chair. The pounding came again, louder and sounding furious. "I'm coming!" she yelled and threw open the door. There was her secretary, fist raised to knock again, looking slightly apologetic, and a bit out of breath. "Sorry miss, but I just remembered. When I was younger, before I worked for you, a man, a man who, now that I think about it looked very much like Mr. Durant. Perhaps it was his father, or cousin, or maybe even his uncle. He was very scruffy looking, and actually quite scary, but-."

"What did this man do, Effie?" snapped the Minister rather impatiently.

"Oh, well, he gave me this letter, and he said to deliver it to you, well, today, actually. And of course at the time I had no idea who he was or what he was talking about, but I thought I'd keep it, you know? I was young then, and it sounded like a fantastic adventure. And I had no idea who you were, but for some reason the date and time always sort of stuck in my head, and I just realized that he meant for me to give it to you today! Isn't that just romantic? Oh I hope-."

"Thank you, Effie, that will be all," said the Minister impatiently plucking the note from the woman's hand.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you; I know you said you had important business to do today, so I'll just be getting back to my desk. Oh I just wish I knew what was in that letter. You know…." Her voice was shutout as Millicent closed her office door and, still staring at the note, sat down slowly at her desk. Then with a great reverence, even fear, she carefully opened it. On it were seven words: "It failed. I cannot tell you more." She had no doubt as to who it was from, or to what it was referring to.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Interesting Proceedings_

Evan Greenwood surveyed the Great Hall, with it's cheering Gryffindors and sulking Slytherins, with little interest. He did not care who had won the house cup. Of course Gryffindor had. It had its heroic trio and obvious favoritism. He did not want to be here. He would have preferred to be home, locked away in his room, pursuing his own studies. But of course, like all young wizards and witches, he had been called away to the great Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He pushed his food listlessly around on his plate, and glanced down the table to where Draco Malfoy and his cronies had their heads together, muttering and shooting furtive looks at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy caught Evan's eye and sneered. Evan sighed and looked away, back to the food on his plate. At home he did not have to deal with the teasing and bullying, even if he was alone.

He and Malfoy had once been friends, a long time ago, when they were very young, and before blood and monetary status meant anything. Well, perhaps 'friends' was too strong a word. The Greenwood family and the Malfoys had know each other a long time, and Evan had always looked up to Draco, who was three years his elder. Their families had spent a lot of time together, as their fathers had been good friends and their mothers had gotten on tolerably well. But all that had changed the night Voldemort had returned three years ago. Evan's family decided they wanted nothing to do with Voldemort, the Death Eaters, or anyone who was associated with such. And they ceased to support Voldemort's followers, for Evan's family had been employed in the black market, selling contraband and dangerous items. Evan's parents were not bad people, only desiring to be on the winning side. So they decided they were now the famous Harry Potters biggest supporters, and helped the Ministry of Magic in any way they could.

None of the other highbrow families, including the Malfoys, had liked this, and in a series of rather suspicious business failures, his father had lost all his money, his company went bankrupt, and they lost all their social standing. Now the Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle families, to name a few, despised the Greenwoods, and they had had to go into hiding.

Now, because of all this, Evan had no friends, and had quickly learned to live without them. He was constantly bullied by his fellow Slytherins, but especially by the boy he had always looked up to. It had only been the first year and already he hated it. He also hated Voldemort for causing all of this to happen.

As he slouched his way out of the Great Hall and back to his room, Evan thought of the dangerous and terrifying life he had led ever since his family had defied Voldemort and his followers. The constant moving, keeping quiet, trying to blend in with the Muggles, and the forever underlying fear that they would be found and killed had permeated every aspect of Evan's life for the past three years. It was hell. They had finally managed to settle down in a little house in the middle of a small Muggle community and did the best with what little they had, disguising themselves as best they could. His father had become a florist, branching out easily from the job that had fronted his black market dealings, which had been a magical plant shop. His mother became a stay-at-home mum. Mostly taking care of Evan, gossiping with her friends, and bemoaning the fact that they didn't live closer to famous Harry Potter. And Evan sat in his room most of the time, making no noise and pretending that he didn't exist. He preferred the company of his books, model trains and planes, and his own little schemes and plans.

But then he had been called to school and forced to endure the condescending looks from pure blood families and the shame of his family's low status all over again. Despised and bullied by the children he had once called his friends.

"Hey Greenwood!" yelled a voice from across the Slytherin common room. The voice belonged to Gregory Goyle, one of Malfoy's cronies and a sworn enemy of Evans. Evan sighed and rolled his eyes. Goyle did this every night, like clockwork.

"What, stupid?" Evan growled back.

"Thanks for making us loose bonehead."

Evan rolled his eyes again and shoved past Goyle and up to his room. For once, Goyle let him pass.  
>Of course it wasn't really Evan's fault that they had lost the house cup. It was true that he had gotten a lot of house points taken from them when he had argued with a teacher, but it hadn't really been enough to affect Gryffindor's win.<br>Evan pulled off his pointed black hat and threw it into his trunk. Might as well start packing.

The next morning was busy as students did some last minute scrambling for lost objects and forgotten bits and pieces. Evan owned very little, and had quickly packed everything into his trunk last night. A book was tucked under his arm for the train ride home. Unfortunately.  
>"What's this?" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, snatching the book from him.<br>"Give it back," Evan growled.  
>" '<em>A Guide to Time Travel and Time Turners<em>,' " she read aloud to the common room at large. "Oh does wittle Evan want to go back and save his mummy and daddy?" she giggled.  
>"No, it's just interesting," snapped Evan, making a grab for the book.<br>"No it's just interwesting," she mimicked, pulling the book out of reach, "well if it's so interesting, catch!" she cried, throwing the book across the room to Marcus Flint. He laughed, waited until Evan had gotten close enough for him to try and make a grab for it, then threw it across the room.  
>"Goyle, catch!" And so a game of keep away started, and went on for quite a while, until Evan was so frustrated he was nearly crying. It was thrown once again and Evan made one last desperate lunge fr the book only to nearly crash into Draco Malfoy himself, who had caught the book and was now turning it over in his hands. The room had gone silent at the arrival in this new factor of the game, and now all were waiting breathlessly for Malfoy's verdict. He laughed and tossed the book back to Evan with a sneer. "You really think this will help?" He laughed cruelly. "It's far too late now." Evan was so startled by this unexpected response that he made no answer as Malfoy sauntered away.<br>As he left the dungeon common room, Evan wondered about what Malfoy and Parkinson had meant. It had almost seemed as though they had been talking about something other than just the loss of his family's dignity, like they knew something that he didn't. But what? Evan shook his head as he mad his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. They were just teasing, as always.

The hours on the train dragged by with an awful slowness as it mad it's way through the countryside. He just wanted to get home, back to his mum and dad, and away from all these awful people. As the train pulled into Platform 9 ¾, he saw that, once again, his parents had forgotten to pick him up. His father was always too absentminded and forgetful to sometimes even remember he had a son. And his mother was probably out at one of her little tea parties, with the other ladies who were so concerned with the lack of restrictions put on half-breeds or some other such cause. He sighed and pulled his trunk to a bench to sit and wait.  
>After half an hour and no sign of his parents or anybody they might have sent to bring him home, he was obliged to move to the Muggle side of the platform, less the barrier close up and he be unable to cross.<br>It wasn't until six by the station clock that he began to really get worried. He was used to his parents absentmindedly neglecting him, usually he preferred it. But this was just ridiculous. He had no way of contacting them. Sure, he could use a pay phone, but he had no Muggle money, just a few Knuts and one precious Sickle. His only choice was to sit and wait.  
>It was past nine by the station clock when an older lady came bustling down the platform, peeking at the other people scattered about, obviously looking for someone. As she got closer, Evan rose from his seat in surprise, for the woman was none other than his Aunt Bertha. By now she had caught sight of him and was furiously waving her white handkerchief at him and calling his name. Evan hesitantly waved back, unsure of what to make of this new development, and rather embarrassed by her flamboyant ways.<br>As she got closer, he saw that she was red eyed and sniffling softly.

"Come along, deary," she said brusquely, taking hold of his arm. And that was all she said as she walked quietly beside him. Which was the strangest thing of all these events, for Aunt Bertha never went anywhere or met anyone without a constant stream of chatter coming from her mouth, for she was a naturally talkative woman. And it was at this that Evan realized something was very, very wrong.

She said nothing the entire way home, and only announced, "Here we are," as they pulled into her driveway, in front of her little brick house.  
>"Why are we here?" asked Evan, tired and confused.<br>"You are to stay here with me," replied his aunt, "perhaps only for a little while, I do not know. But your presence will be very comforting to me after all that has happened, so I hope you do not object. I do not know if better accommodations are wanted, but you are to stay here with me, at least for tonight," she paused and pressed her hanky to her eyes with a small sniff. "Now let's get your trunk upstairs dear boy. I don't know how we'll manage it, but you're a spry young man. I'll take this end, you take the other. Now up we go!"  
>Evan was glad his aunt was back to normal, but he was still confused by the days events, and attempted to lay awake to think about them. But he was to tired, and after only a couple of minutes, was fast asleep.<p> 


End file.
